Hello, you fool, I love you
by acrylicas
Summary: And Arthur leaves. Maybe one day he'll become enamoured of Gilbert once again. Maybe he will desire him as much as he did for the first time. As for now, let's the baby grow up. The ground, Arthur is convinced, is already seeded.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there.**

**For the love of God, I'm begging you not to punish me cruelly in case you read the text bellow. I am not an English-speaking guy, you know, and my poor English leaves very much to be desired so... So. But still, no pain no gain. I wrote it and still want it to be read by someone.**

**Anyway, here it is.**

_AU, Gilbert/Arthur story with slight Arthur/Antonio_

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><p>- Arthur, just get away, huh.<p>

Gilbert's pale fingers are moving nimbly all over the keyboard. His look is locked tightly with a laptop screen. It's covered with a thick layer of dust, absolutely unnoticed by Gilbert. Or he just pretends not to notice it. Beilschmidt waves away, not looking at Arthur, and the Englishman dodges adroitly. He straightens up and crosses his arms, staring disappointedly at the obstinate Prussian's body, doubled up in the chair.

- Come on, Gilbert, let'd do it.

- Just don't. Go and ask Jones.

- Gilbert, please.

- Quit your whining, Kirkland, you're not a pussy.

Gilbert doesn't take his eyes off of the screen for a moment, continuing to type unceasingly.

- Right, there is another pussy over here, you butthead, - Arthur mumbles.

- I hear you, bugger.

- Gilbert, in case you don't come off of the fucking screen I'm going to pay a visit to Francis.

- Suck off.

Arthur falls silent. And Gilbert, who is distracted from his blog for a second, decides that Kirkland has finally become quiet. Beilschmidt looks around his room - the Englishman is nowhere to be seen.

- On his way to Francis, huh? He knows where to go, fucking queer.

Gilbert shrugs indifferently. And just when his fingers touch the keyboard he nearly jumps with surprise. He stares under his desk, just between his legs where Kirkland is working with enthusiasm.

- What the fuck are you doing?

Gilbert's penis slips out of Arthur's hands. The Englishman glowers at perplexed Prussian, his pointed elbows, his gray T-shirt which is too big in size. A smirk spreads over the face.

- It is your idea.

Gilbert rolls his eyes and moves off to the wall sitting in the chair. He starts to zip up gloomily. Arthur gets out of under the desk and buttons his upper button up.

- Give up drinking, Kirkland, - irritated, Gilbert spits out and stands up. And he adds, slamming the door behind him: - I'm not a fucking gay.

Arthur is left alone. The computer is working quietly. The Englishman casts a glance at the screen. Gilbert left everything on and Kirkland, not taking his eyes off the square of the monitor, rolls the chair to him, sits down and scrolls the page.  
>It isn't Gilbert's blog, but here and there (read: everywhere) Arthur can see a little icon with Prussian's photography. Arthur's look locks with one of the photos. Erzhbeta and don't-even-dare-to-call-this-moron's-name-in-front-of-me guy - that's what Arthur remembers about Roderich Edelstein. Of course, according to what Gilbert has told him about Austrian.<p>

So, Elezaveta and Roderich.  
>Cheerful, happy, together. Gilbert won the first comment to be his (actually, as everywhere in Erzhbeta's blog): 'dont even wanna know u. get away from deutschland, u morons'.<br>Arthur giggles. As far as he knows, Prussian had been trying to win Hungarian, and when he nearly did, said 'moron' Roderich Edelstein had suddenly appeared on stage. Once Arthur even told Gilbert that he should have believed deeply. And not to be such a fool. So now Elezaveta Hedervary's blog is embellished with Gilbert's silly comments.  
>Kirkland is reading Prussian's fits of jealousy and that amuses him. He laughs out loud but suddenly abrupts and falls silent. Arthur zooms a browser out, then hurries to zoom it in - it's better to leave it as it was before.<p>

.

There's no one who remembers when they have started hanging around together. For the first time it was a glass of cognac which apparently gave rise to their acquaintance. Gilbert wasn't able to pay for this and Arthur, being irrefutable gentleman, kindly helped a poor guy out of troubles.

For the second time they got drunk together.

On that day Arthur had had a row with Jones and was trying to sink his fury towards American in green colour of Chartreuse. After that Gilbert literally manhandled Arthur to his place. Of course, not to that one where the Englishman lived with Jones. After that event Arthur didn't look to Alfred's face for a long time, hiding his glance in gray coat collar.

Once more - drinks.

For the third time they spent all night at Kirkland's place. The Englishman managed to go down where a wine cellar was, and Gilbert followed him. They were sitting on the soft leather couch, wrapped themselves in a terry rug, breathing slight dampness of the room and finishing the fourth bottle of Petit Chablis.

It was the time when Arthur looked at Gilbert and saw a man who could have been desired. It was the first and only time Gilbert allowed himself to be kissed. Without passion or arousal, without any hint of sexual continuation - just to touch his half-opened lips with a hot tongue lightly, press to them with their own and silently put their head on his shoulder. Arthur was breathing hot somewhere in Gilbert's neck, and Beilschmidt in his turn was sitting quietly but straight, with his eyes closed and his lips parted.

And one more time they were brought together by alcohol.

Gilbert left on the next day, saying to Arthur in the end:

- I don't remember what has happened at night, and that's a nice reason to think that nothing has happened. That's exactly what I'm going to think.

Arthur just nodded, crossing his arms. In some sense Gilbert was right - nothing had happened.

Everything but what Arthur wanted to happen so much.

_TBC_

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><p><em>-sighs-<em>

_Ahh. Let's hope to Christ it's okay. _


	2. Chapter 2

Indeed.  
>Every time Arthur begins to behave himself frivolous and vulgar, it seems to Gilbert that Kirkland had time to get loaded beforehand. At that point Beilschmidt remains sober and, of course, nips all of Arthur's attempts to seduce him in the bud.<p>

At first Arthur really pretends to be drunk. It happens when his desire to make out with Gilbert is too strong to bear. But Beilschmidt is still sober, cruel and unbending. Gilbert is still straight. And Arthur gives up. He gives up and goes to Jones every time, depressed with his own helplessness.

But damn!  
>In the room, in the street, at the bar for Arthur it's enough to receive a look from Gilbert and he's already ready to strip naked. Even in the bed with Alfred, the Englishman starts to keep holding his rational thinking on, not to scream the wrong name in the moment of release.<p>

Kirkland smiles bitterly and drops his head on the table top, pushing away another glass of booze. To believe the watch it's dawning outside.

There is a moment Arthur begins to suspect that Gilbert's straight-ness is rocked. And what drives Kirkland wild is that he is not a reason for that. Certain Spaniard Antonio Cariedo appears on stage. With that a chance to grab Prussian's ass is threatened.

Beilschmidt is friends with Antonio for a long time, but it's only now when Arthur finds it out. Apparently, the albino, being aware of Kirkland's sexuality, was afraid of mentioning his beloved Toni.  
>Who, oh, appeared to be gay.<p>

And he was doing right being afraid.  
>That's what Arthur thinks of in the moment when Antonio, hanging over him, licks off a drop of sweat came out on his cheekbone and goes on fucking the Englishman's body.<p>

It's too easy to seduce Spaniard, and once again Arthur regrets that Gilbert is different. Cariedo is as awesome in the bed as Prussian calls himself everyday, but even that doesn't turn Spaniard into Beilschmidt.  
>A skin is too swarthy.<br>Hair is too dark.  
>Eyes are too green.<br>And the smile isn't Gilbert's. Let alone Antinio himself is not Gilbert.

Arthur shades his eyelids, continuing to moan another vulgarity into Spaniard's mouth.

Arthur starts to doubt about Gilbert's sexuality when he confesses to him that he has slept with Cariedo. Gilbert jumps to his feet and furiously looks at Kirkland, refusing to believe his ears. His lips tremble, fists clench.

Arthur smiles, trying to turn everything into a joke, and gets a nice slam in his face.

- What the hell, Kirkland?

Gilbert's chest rises heavily, nostrils dilate with every breath, and naked aggression is visible in his ruby gaze.

- Why fly into a temper?

Arthur doesn't get it. Of course, Arthur couldn't even imagine how much he would drive Gilbert crazy. And he ran after Cariedo only because Spaniard's ass is 'too sweet to refuse'.

- What a whore you are, Artie. I feel sorry for Jones.

Arthur remembers the moment Alfred left him. He remembers there was no hysterics. He remembers his own noisy sigh when doors creaked, closed behind American.

- I'm not with Jones anymore, - Arthur tries to justify himself.

Gilbert purses his lips and steps closer to the Englishman, grabbing him by his collar. His face is so close now, that Arthur doesn't care a fly what Prussian is going to say next. Arthur is eager for feeling Gilbert's breath on his skin for a little longer. Hot breath soaked with anger.

- It is Jones who is not with you anymore, arsehole.

A grasp is being slackening, breath moves away and skin gets cold immediately. Gilbert doesn't know what to do with his hands. He pockets them in and out, and then hugs his pale body dressed in the same gray T-shirt.

- How could it happen that... that you... Why the heck did you bother him? - Gilbert isn't going to keep silent. He's speaking as he manages to find words, more or less articulate and clear, among all that muddled mess in his head.

Arthur stands aside and listens silently. As the story unfolds in front of him, there's no doubt left: Gilbert is jealous. And Arthur hates Spaniard for being the only one of who Beilschmidt is jealous.

Arthur approaches Prussian and fearlessly puts his hands on his shoulders.

- You have to accept that we are the same, - Arthur states in a low voice but with firm confidence.

Gilbert turns away and bites his lower lip, though not throwing Arthur's hands off of his shoulders.

- Put up with it, Gil, - Arthur's lips are too close to Gilbert's ear. - Accept it.

The last half-step - and Arthur cuddles up to Beilschmidt's body, throws his arms around his neck, his fingers drown in hip pockets of Gilbert's jeans. Gilbert is too angry to protest. Gilbert is too rabid and now all he is ready for is either to beat Kirkland black and blue or to screw the shit out of him. Damnit. Just to screw him nicely.

It is he last thought which wanders around his head, before Gilbert topples Arthur down on the floor and places himself on the Englishman s knees. Hands undo, jerk, rend the belt rapidly. Gilbert is hurry to leave Kirkland without pants. He pulls it off together with boxers. Gilbert doesn't look at Arthur's face and doesn't see Arthur brightly smirks. Gilbert knows he let Arthur win. He knows that Arthur revels in his victory. And Beilschmidt hopes to Christ he will never see the Englishman again.

Arthur lets out the first moan as Gilbert touches him with his mouth. It's so new to Gilbert that he's doing it awkwardly, but Kirkland seems to go crazy with happiness. Gilbert nearly chokes when Arthur's hand presses his head to his groin. He drops the dick and coughs.

..And then falls silent, finally looking at Kirkland.

Arthur's lying under Gilbert's body, one hand is spread out, and wrist of the other's is firmly clutched with teeth. His fringe became wet and dishevelled. Gilbert can see tiny nipples from under the pulled up T-shirt. Arthur's chest rises heavily. Though Gilbert stops touching him, Arthur still groans, keeps his eyes closed and bites his wrist.

Gilbert thinks that is beautiful.

And then he stands up and curses loudly. His fist crashes against the wall, causing a booming sound. Arthur's moans have stopped. He opens his eyes and looked around puzzled. Noticing Gilbert, who is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, he stands up and puts his pants on. His feet almost give way under him, but Arthur approaches Beilschmidt and looks at his face. There is neither arousal nor desire left in his gaze.

- So that's what you are, Gilbert. Chickened out, huh?

And Arthur leaves. Maybe one day he'll become enamoured of Gilbert once again. Maybe he will desire him as much as he did for the first time. As for now, let's the baby grow up. The ground, Arthur is convinced, is already seeded. And now that's time for it to ripen.

After Arthur's left Gilbert is still sitting on the floor. He replays the incident in his mind and then suddenly endeavours to forget right away.

He thinks about Antonio. He recalls that day when his friend told him he was going to leave him soon. It was winter, and they shared the one bed under two blankets, warming themselves with the help of nice thoughts and each other's presence. For all his life Gilbert knew Antonio loved guys. He never, never was ashamed of it, continuing to while his nights in the same bed with Spaniard. There was a strong conviction that they would never cross the line. It was that Gilbert just knew that his friend Tony loved guys.  
>Back then Gilbert told him:<p>

- You love them too much.

Spaniard just burst into laugh.

- Sure, I'd rather die saving your sweet Prussian ass, dude. AIDS isn't the best fate, huh, - Antonio told and laughed once more before turning his back and immediately falling asleep. At least that was what Gilbert thought.

Beilschmidt doesn't know if Spaniard told Arthur the truth about his disease. God damnit, Gilbert is sure that Toni hasn't done that! Who is going to sleep with alive deadman, huh?

Tomorrow Gilbert will definitely tell Arthur everything. After that they will go to a clinic and do all the needful tests. Later they will get a confirmation that Arthur is pure, and maybe Gilbert will even try to finish what he has started today.

Maybe they will be fine. Maybe Gilbert will confess to Arthur that he was just posing himself as a fool for too long. Maybe he will tell Arthur he loves his eyebrows and open another bottle of Petit Chablis. Once more Arthur will fall asleep on his shoulder. Gilbert knows that at that time in the wine cellar, Arthur was just snuffling peacefully in his arms.

The whole room echoes with a short sob.  
>Gilbert's trouble is that he has never been able to believe. And, perhaps, he has always been too foolish to be loved.<p>

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><p><em>Actually... That's all. I do hope each of you who managed to read this hasn't his eyes broken. :)<em>

_It would be nice to know whether this story is okay to be here or should it be deleted away. Let me know please._

_-acrylicas_


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